


Been far away for far too long

by Lady_Firiel



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M, and there's a bit less fluff that usual but there's still some because I'm certified fluff trash™, brief mention of a nameless girl, there's also a cliché scene just because I could, there's pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 13:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12060039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Firiel/pseuds/Lady_Firiel
Summary: Sometimes you have to take a leap of faith and trust that when you’ll fall someone will be there to catch you.It’s usually worth it.





	Been far away for far too long

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone~!  
> Pew, I can't believe I'm finally posting this. I swear I wrote it in a day a the beginning of _June_ and I've been struggling ever since with a proper title. It's been three months. _Three months_. And I'm still not 100% sure but I like it so that's it.  
>  Hope you enjoy it~!

At age eleven, Echizen Ryōma met Momoshiro Takeshi.

He was tall, broad and very, _very_ loud.

Yet it didn’t take Ryōma long to figure out that Momoshiro Takeshi had a good tennis sense.

The unfinished match they played on their first encounter left in Ryōma the vivid feeling that the guy standing in front of him was going to be quite interesting.

He would later found out that he was extremely right.

Over his first year at Seishun Gakuen Middle School they became friends, _best friends_ even.

They would go to and from school together, on Momo’s bike, go for junk food and tennis matches after practice, when they still had some energy left because nobody pissed Tezuka off earning additional laps for everyone.

Momoshiro was loud and bright and somehow it made up for Ryōma’s quiet nature.

In a way, they complemented one another.

It became a comforting routine, a big, solid stepping stone in the path of a relationship that both, either loudly or silently, hoped would last for years to come.

 

At age thirteen, Echizen Ryōma was confronted with the feeling of loneliness.

If asked he would deny it, snort in your face and say that _“you still have lots more to work on”_ because the simple thought of it was _utterly ridiculous_. He wasn’t lonely. Like, _at all_.

And yet he was.

Momoshiro was in his first year of High School and his schedule was busy. Ryōma’s was too, so the chances to meet were very few. Their schedules didn’t match, and so their routine of hanging together turned into a set of occasional meetings arranged by Momo when he felt a tiny bit more sentimental than usual and wanted to meet his best friend again.

Ryōma teased him for being too emotional but he was very glad for each meeting.

Ryōma knew other people whom he considered friends, somehow, but none of them was quite like Momo: they all lacked something, something he himself couldn’t name, not yet, that Momo probably just gave him without even knowing.

Maybe it was his brightness, the spark of joy that lit his dark eyes when they met, as if they hadn’t seen each other in ages and Ryōma’s grumpy face was the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Maybe it was the casual touches, the way Momo knocked off his beloved baseball cap and ruffled his hair, his big warm hand lingering on top of his head just a second too much, as if ending that contact would actually end much more than a friendly gesture. 

Maybe it was the loudness of his happy voice, the funny way he ended his sentences, or the familiar bounce in his step when they walked to the tennis courts for another match.

Ryōma was not loud and was not bright. He was quiet and grumpy.

But on the days he met with his best friend his golden eyes shined a tiny bit and if you looked closely, at specific times of the day, you would see a tiny fond smile. If you were lucky enough you could even catch a small chuckle, because he would never admit it but Momo made him laugh.

He had a tendency to ruin his Poker Face™ and his quiet façade.

Honestly, though, Ryōma didn’t care.

 

At age fifteen, Echizen Ryōma found the name of his feelings.

After entering High School things were back to how they were before and Momo was once again at his side basically every day.

They resumed their old routine of junk food and tennis matches, sometimes they still rode Momo’s old bike, when its owner was feeling yet again a bit sentimental and said they should do it _“for old times’ sake”_.

Ryōma would call him an old man and chuckle lightly at Momo’s mock-angry tone from behind him on his bike.

Momo wasn’t the only one who enjoyed those times, though: Ryōma would secretly –and silently, because silent was his nature- enjoy the feeling of Momo’s broad shoulders under his hands, and if at times his hold on them got a little bit tighter just so he could feel his muscles pulsing slightly under his shirt and the faint warmth of his skin under his palms, neither said anything.

Throughout the two years they spent together in High School their bond deepened and Ryōma slowly found out that the amount of things he allowed Momo and only Momo to do to him was increasing.

He realized that he actually _longed_ for Momo’s touches, that he unconsciously leant towards his hand at every hair ruffle, mock-chokehold and casual jab in his side.

Momo’s hands were always very warm and during winter Ryōma told himself that he was just seeking said warmth because he was cold.

But then came summer and the excuse was no longer valid and Ryōma was forced to admit –to himself, at the very least- that he actually sought those touches because he actually _enjoyed_ them.

With that realization came a feeling of butterflies in his stomach every time his best friend touched him.

And then it happened every time he called his name, in his loud and attention-catching way, and every time he smiled at him, all brightness and honest joy, like grumpy little Ryōma was the best person to spend time with on the entire planet.

Ryōma hated the butterflies, they made him feel like a silly teenage girl with a crush on her best friend, which he _totally wasn’t_. A silly teenage girl, that is. Also crushing on his best friend.

Except he was.

The realization that his feelings were more than friendly affection hit him like a punch to the gut and a freezing downpour at the same time.

They were at the arcade and Momo was playing with the claw machine to win some awful looking toy.

Ryōma was watching him play, dark eyes focused, teeth biting his bottom lip in concentration, his whole body tense as if failure would mean eternal humiliation or something; like he wasn’t on his fourth –or fifth? Ryōma had lost count- try.

A fond smile graced Ryōma’s face as he kept watching his best friend fail again and try for the fifth –sixth? He honestly didn’t know- time to win said toy.

He did it in the end, on the tenth –or the eleventh? You know what? _Whatever_ \- try.

His smile was so big it almost threatened to split his face in half and if it wasn’t actually so bright it would have reminded Ryōma of the Kuchisake-Onna myth his father told him once to scare him.

«Here» Momo had said then, turning towards him and handing him the toy he just won. «For you»

Ryōma stood baffled, looking at his best friend like he was a ghost.

«What?»

«I said» Momo repeated, smile unwavering «This is for you. I wanted to win this for you»

Ryōma slowly reached for the toy, hand slightly trembling, and took it from his friend’s hold.

As awful as it looked, a fluorescent green _thing_ –an alien, maybe?- with goofy goggly eyes and a pink open mouth with sharp white teeth embroidered on it, it was very soft.

Ryōma shook it lightly and chuckled softly as the black of the goggly eyes bounced around.

It was ridiculous.

«Thank you» he said then, raising his head to look into Momo’s eyes. He almost wanted to add something sarcastic, or bratty, but he didn’t.

And then Momo’s smile brightened even more –and was that even possible? Until then Ryōma had thought it definitely wasn’t- and that was it: Ryōma felt his face get warmer, his heartbeat getting faster as the butterflies in his stomach started flapping their little wings like crazy.

_That was it_ , Ryōma thought, realization creeping on him like a hairy spider on a bare leg: he had fallen in love with his best friend.

 

At age sixteen, Echizen Ryōma experienced the feeling of heartbreak.

Momo had graduated and moved to college and he was staying in the dorms because committing from home would take him hours.

College wasn’t as busy as High School had been but they hardly got to see each other, especially since Momo lived so far away and didn’t came home even for the weekends.

Ryōma was struck in High School without his best friend, with whom he was still in love, and with a team of energetic kids who still weren’t up to his standards. Never mind his standards being potentially too high for them, they still weren’t good enough.

Ryōma was upset.

He and Momo had resolved themselves to weekly phone calls, on Saturday afternoons, to keep in touch with each other. It was mostly Momo calling, because Ryōma was a stubborn mule and refused to admit just how much he wanted to hear Momo’s voice. Somehow, he though - _he knew_ \- that if he ever made the phone call he would lose it: his heartbeat would go crazy while the phone rang, his brain would run wild with “what if” scenarios in which Momo wouldn’t answer because he didn’t care anymore, he was too busy for his friend or had somehow figured out his feeling and was feeling disgusted.

He knew his breath would get caught in his throat the very moment Momo’s voice would pick up and he would feel like a silly teenage girl with a crush on his best friend; only this time it was all true, except for the girl part.

Answering the phone was easy, he couldn’t see the sparkling eyes, the bright smile and the broad shoulders he loved so much, he could only drown in the sound of his voice, loud and cheerful and so very familiar.

Like it had always been, Momo filled the silences in their relationship with his loud narration and their phone calls lasted more than an hour because Momo had so many stories to tell Ryōma, wishing they could share them. He never lacked enthusiasm and always claimed he missed hanging out with him and couldn’t wait ‘til summer vacation to come back and play tennis together.

Ryōma never told him he felt the same, but he had a suspicion Momo knew anyway.

Sometimes Momo asked him about the team and he would complain they weren’t getting any good; Momo would laugh and tell him he was probably being too strict, maybe stricter than Tezuka.

Ryōma would huff and say he was being strict just the right amount.

Momo would then call him grumpy and laugh at him. Ryōma would smile fondly at said laugh and thank the gods his friend couldn’t see him blush.

Four months into his college life and Momo dropped the bomb.

From the moment Ryōma answered the phone and heard Momo’s ever cheerful voice call his name he knew there was something.

Ryōma had spent years listening to Momo’s voice and by now he knew by heart all the tone-differences his feelings made on his voice.

The cheerful tone, this time, had a sort of undertone, something he couldn’t pick or name but knew was there and knew meant something.

So he waited, a feeling of dread creeping on him, like whatever good news his best friend had to share wouldn’t be good for him to hear.

And then it came.

«I got myself a girlfriend!» Momo said, and the nameless undertone Ryōma felt finally made sense: _love._

«A girlfriend?» he asked, schooling his tone in a perplexed one, like he couldn’t believe it not because he _didn’t want to_ but because he just couldn’t picture goofy Momoshiro Takeshi going out with some pretty girl.

«Yes! She’s the cutest and sweetest girl ever!»

«Does she like tennis» Ryōma said, partly because he really wanted to know, mostly because that was what Momo was likely expecting him to ask.

Indeed, Momo laughed before answering: «I knew you would ask that, I just knew! And, guess what? She does! We even played some matches together but of course she’s nothing near your level, like, not close at all» he said, his laughter slowly dying into a soft chuckle. «Honestly, though, no one is quite as good as you» he added, the smile he loved so much clear in his voice (Ryōma always thought it was a stupid cliché, hearing a smile in a voice, but right then he swore he could).

For the umpteenth time Ryōma was glad Momo couldn’t see his blushing face nor hear his crazy heartbeat.

For the first time he was glad for the physical distance between them.

On the other side of the phone Momo kept rambling about his new girlfriend, how cute she was, how nice she was, how blah blah blah she was. Ryōma wasn’t paying attention.

«I wish you could meet her» he said then, and suddenly Ryōma’s attention switched back on the conversation. «I think you’d like her»

Ryōma snorted, softly, because if things weren’t actually as fucked up as they were he probably would.

«If she puts up with you she must be really good» he said, following a sort of social script and giving the answer that was mostly expected from him. Ryōma hated social conventions but at times like these he felt they were his sole escape from ruining everything.

Conventions were fine, easy, _safe_. Conventions prevented slip ups.

He heard Momo huff.

«You say that as if I’m an insufferable human being and yet you stuck around for _years_ and still call me your best friend. What does this say about _you_ » he said, playfully.

Ryōma allowed himself to smile.

«If I put up with you for that long that means I am _very good_ » he answered, mimicking his friend’s playful tone.

«Shut it! If anything _I_ am the very good one, dealing with your grumpy ass for all this time without ever getting tired!» Momo said, no malice in the jab he just delivered.

 Ryōma chuckled softly.

After a moment of silence Momo added: «I think I’ll introduce her in the summer, how does that sound?»

His chuckle definitely died and his breath got caught in his throat. He wanted him to meet her.

Catching his breath and schooling his voice in a tone that wouldn’t betray the heartbreak he was currently feeling Ryōma answered: «This summer? Sure, sounds good. If she doesn’t dump you before, that is» he added, hoping the last part sounded like a playful, friendly jab the usual grumpy, bratty Ryōma would use and not like a wish.

The mock-angry tone of Momo’s answer confirmed that yes, he did lie well.

 

That summer he met Momo’s girlfriend and he found out she was delightful.

He had expected – _hoped_ \- her to have flaws of any kind, like being rude, or loud, or ugly (like that would have stopped Momo).

But she was polite, quiet and very cute, with her long hair neatly tied and small built. Her voice was sweet, and when she introduced herself she did so with a smile so nice Ryōma didn’t wonder why Momo liked her.

If he hadn’t been in love with her boyfriend (and tennis obsessed and likely gay) he would have probably liked her too.

She had brought a picnic basket filled with onigiri and cans of his favorite drink, because, apparently, Momo had mentioned his love for Japanese food and his addiction to Ponta and she had wanted to make him like her because he was her boyfriend’s best friend.

It was horribly touching. Especially because the onigiri tasted wonderful and the Ponta cans were cool enough for his liking.

Momo asked him to play a match and the girl cheered gleefully, softly clapping her small hands and gently demanding to see the great Echizen Ryōma play a set.

Ryōma never said no to tennis.

So they played while she acted as the referee and for the whole time they played Ryōma focused only on Momoshiro, finding relief in the familiar view of his best friend on the other side of a tennis net.

He won 6-2 and almost laughed when Momo, at the end of the match, collapsed on the ground, exhausted.

«You still have lots more to work on, Momo-senpai» he said, coming closer and extending him a hand to get up. Momo took it with a smile and sat up.

«You’re still a cocky brat, aren’t you» he said, but his face betrayed a feeling of relief at the fact that certain things never changed.

Ryōma let himself smile fondly, keeping his hold on Momo’s hand a little longer than necessary, imprinting in his mind the feeling of that warm sweaty skin he’d missed so much.

And then she came to them, a big excited smile on her face and two water bottles in her hands; she handed one to each of them and they drank gratefully.

«It was amazing! Echizen-kun, your twist serve is really something! Momoshiro-kun did mention you were good but I certainly didn’t believe you were _this_ good!» she said, clasping her own hands and smiling brightly.

_Not as brightly as Momo_ , he thought, but didn’t say it.

«Thank you» he said instead, forcing a polite smile only because she was his best friend’s girlfriend.

She chuckled softly and turned to Momo, who had stood up in the meantime, and said: «You did very good too, keeping up with such a good player» and then she kissed his cheek, as a reward for doing well.

During the time he had spent with them Ryōma had noticed that they weren’t the gross, sappy couple he had expected to see; their PDA were small, like holding hands and brushing shoulders, a kiss on the cheek as a reward; no ridiculous pet names or lame declarations of love.

(Maybe it was because they were Japanese and not the ridiculous, lame Americans in the rom-coms Ryōma secretly watched when he was feeling bad and wanted to be angry at something. Those movies were absurd, no real person could be so happy with love, he _knew_ )

At the end of the day, when they parted ways, Ryōma find out he could not find a single thing about Momo’s girlfriend to complain about. She was simply perfect for him and Ryōma really, _really_ wanted Momo to be happy, because Momo was his best friend and he deserved it all.

He hoped they would be happy together for as long as possible.

 

At age seventeen, Echizen Ryōma decided to move on.

He had received a few offers of full scholarships for American colleges and he had finally picked one where he could get an advanced education and still play tennis at a high level.

He was to leave mid-August.

He had called Momo to tell him as soon as his acceptance letter arrived and his friend had been happy for him, saying that it was a great opportunity and that he would fully support him.

At the time, Ryōma wasn’t sure if the slightly sad undertone in Momo’s voice was real or just his own wishful thinking.

It didn’t matter though, he would go to the States and forget his stupid crush (he didn’t remind himself that it wasn’t a crush anymore since way long ago, his feelings more like unrequited love by then).

He made arrangements, choose the place to stay once in America and made sure all his documents were regular.

After graduating from High School his life became hectic and sometimes he was so busy he forgot his weekly call with Momo.

Momo never got angry, saying he understood, that it was fine, that they would talk when things would be settled. 

They did not.

It wasn’t until summer break began, at the end of July, when everything was ready, that Ryōma actually realized he hadn’t talked properly with his best friend in _months_.

He picked up the phone, hoping Momo would answer him, his heart beating a million miles an hour until finally a voice came from the other side.

«Hello?»

It was Momo’s voice, loud, cheerful, bright Momoshiro Takeshi, love of his life.

«Momo-senpai» he said, softly, almost scared that, after hearing his voice, Momo would hang up, offended.

«Echizen!» but he should have know better, for Momo was anything if not absolutely delighted to hear his voice, even after all that time.

«I’m sorry for not calling properly for so long…» he said, a pang of guilt blocking his throat.

«It’s fine, it’s fine! I know you were busy, after all it’s a big step! How are things going, is everything settled by now?»

Sweet, caring Momoshiro Takeshi.

«Everything’s ready, yes»

«When are you leaving?»

Stab to the gut.

«In two weeks»

«That’s so soon! Hey, do you have some free time in those weeks? I want to see you and give you a proper goodbye before you leave!»

Ryōma felt his eyes water, but he didn’t cry because Echizen Ryōma doesn’t cry.

«I shouldn’t be very busy so I guess we could meet sometimes»

«Awesome! I haven’t seen you in over a year, have you finally grown a bit?» he asked, laughing, and for a moment Ryōma let himself laugh along, softly, because Echizen Ryōma didn’t laugh either. Not loudly.

«I don’t know, did you become a little smarter?» he said, playfully.

«So mean! I’ll let you know that my grades are actually good right now!»

Ryōma chuckled again, losing himself in the familiarity of their conversation.   

«See you soon then, Momo-senpai» he said.

«See you soon Echizen»

He hung up with the brightest smile he had in months.

 

They met a few times in the following weeks, always just the two of them, no girlfriend around. Ryōma wanted to ask but decided not to, to simply enjoy having Momo all to himself for the last time.

Then came the day before his flight and Momo demanded his company for the whole day, from mid-morning to early night. Ryōma did not complain.

They played a tennis match, went for lunch (and for once it was something different from junk food), then went to the arcade and finally took a walk in the park, where they sat on a bench to enjoy the quietness of the late afternoon.

They stayed silent for a while, neither knowing what to say at that point.

It was Momo, in the end, who broke the silence, because that was how it had always been.

«So» he said, uncertain, scratching the back of his neck «You’re leaving tomorrow»

«Yes»

«How long are you supposed to stay there?»

Ryōma thought for a while.

«At least four years»

«That’s long»

«I know»

«Will you ever come back to Japan?»

«I don’t think so. My parents are moving to the States too»

«Oh»

And like that it was silent again. Ryōma didn’t want to stay quiet, he had four years ahead of him in which silence and mindless, boring chatter would be his daily routine, he wanted to hear more of Momo’s loud, cheerful, bright voice.

«How’s your girlfriend?» he asked, because he had wanted to for two whole weeks.

«Oh, we broke up a month ago» Momo said.

Ryōma turned to look at him, eyes wide in shock.

«You what?»

«We broke up. Actually, _I_ broke up with her»

«Wha- Why? She seemed pretty good»

«She was» he said, smiling gently. Ryōma strained his ears searching for something, an undertone in Momo’s voice which would hint some sadness. He found none.

«Then why did you dump her?»

He hoped he didn’t sound too hopeful in his enquiry.

«She was perfect but something was missing, you know? I really, really liked her but I had a feeling it wasn’t enough. I could like her but never love her, if you want»

Ryōma felt his heartbeat quicken.

«Why’s that?»

«I don’t really know, it’s just… She wasn’t the right one for me, I think» he said, smiling.

Ryōma didn’t know what to say.

«I’m sorry»

Momo shrugged his shoulders.

«We’re young, it happens. It’s not like I’ll never like anyone again, is it?» he said, half laughing.

Ryōma wondered if, indeed, he will ever fall in love with someone who was not Momo. Right then it seemed impossible.

«I guess» he answered, not really knowing what else to say.

«Cheer up, Echizen! You’re leaving for the States tomorrow, it’s a big step! Man, it seems so long since we met, back in Middle School. That year was pretty crazy, pretty crazy indeed»

Ryōma smiled, remembering with fondness his first year of middle school.

«It was very crazy, yes» he agreed, remembering all the weirdos they met.

«I’d bet your college years will be even crazier»

Oh, they probably would. But they definitely wouldn’t be the same without his best friend.

«It’s very likely they’ll be, yes»

Silence fell on them once again.

«I’m going to miss you» Momo said after a while, looking into Ryōma’s golden eyes and smiling almost sadly.

Ryōma wanted to say that he would too, that he would miss him more than he probably thought; but he was Echizen Ryōma, grumpy, quiet Echizen Ryōma, and he didn’t.

Instead he stared intently into Momo’s eyes and hoped the message got across anyway.

_I’ll miss you too_

_I’ll miss this all_

_I’ll miss us_

_I love you_

Momoshiro had always been good at reading him and his silences, sometimes so much Ryōma was scared he could read too much. But right then it didn’t matter what he would see, so long as he saw it.

And he did, like he always did.

Momo gave him a gentle smile and then proceeded to ruffle his hair.

He let him, because he would miss that too.

The big, warm hand on his head stopped and slowly moved to his cheek. They kept looking into each other’s eyes, and Momo’s shone with a fond brightness Ryōma had never seen before.

He felt his face flush and his heartbeat quicken and he gulped, hoping to swallow the lump in his throat.

He watched as Momo slowly drew closer and then placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.

«Goodbye, Echizen Ryōma»

 

At age twenty-three, Echizen Ryōma finally let it go.

Momo and him had left with that awkward kiss on the forehead; throughout the years they had only texted each other and nothing more.

During college Ryōma had low-key dated a few guys but it never worked. They all lacked something.

(They just weren’t Momo, in the end. No one was)

He had successfully graduated and was well on his way to become a world star-player; and he would.

He had played his brother, Ryōga, once or twice; he even played Tezuka.

His life was great, he was successful, had great opponents, money and everything he could wish for.

And yet something was missing.

Among the friends he made, the fans he had, the few people he had dated, no one filled that hole in his soul. Not even tennis.

It had been six years since he last went to Japan, maybe it was time to go back.

 

Narita Airport was just as busy and noisy as he remembered.

Ryōma grabbed his bags, huffing at the crowd, and headed towards the exit.

On his way he realized he had no idea of where Momo was.

What if he had moved to another city? Another country?

He shook his head, panicking would do him no good, and resolved himself to call him; they had barely texted each other the last few years.

He took a deep breath and dialed the number on his phone.

His heartbeat was madly quick, his breath labored with the fear of rejection.

Then the ringing stopped and a voice picked up.

«Hello?»

Sweet, bright, cheerful Momoshiro Takeshi. Ryōma felt his heart skip a beat and for a second he forgot to speak.

«Hello?»

«Momo-senpai» he said, softly, like that time he called him after months.

A few seconds of silence went by and Ryōma almost checked to see if the call had ended.

Then: «Echizen?»

He may have not heard it in years, but Ryōma still remembered all the different tones of Momo’s voice and in the one he used there were surprise and mild joy, but no anger whatsoever. He was relieved, somehow.

«Yes Momo-senpai, it’s me»

«You… Aren’t you supposed to be in the States now? Shouldn’t it be night there?»

Ryōma chuckled.

«Yeah, it should be. But I’m not in the States right now» he said, smiling.

«Where are you?»

«I’m at Narita Airport»

Another second of silence.

«You’re in Japan?!»

«Yes»

«Wait, hold on! Are you still in the Airport?»

Ryōma furrowed his eyebrows.

«Yes, I am»

«Where?»

«Mm, in front of the East Exit? Near the taxi and busses boarding area?» he said, checking the exit sing for confirmation, unsure as to why Momo wanted to know.

«Wait right there» he said and then hung up right after, leaving Ryōma baffled, staring dumbly at his phone. No longer than a minute later he heard someone call his name.

«Echizen!»

He turned around, looking for the source of the voice.

«Echizen!»

And then he spotted him: running through the crowd, frantically waving his arms, him, the boy –now a man- he loved. Face flushed, probably because of the run, his hair, slightly longer than he remembered, all messed up, no gel keeping it in place.

Ryōma dropped his bags when he saw the sparkle of utter joy in his friend’s dark eyes.

«Momo-senpai!» he shouted, and this time let all be damned, too many times grumpy, quiet Echizen Ryōma hadn’t said or done something. This time he would say and do it all.

He started running towards Momo, face flushed as well, an open smile gracing his lips.

And then their eyes met, and all the clichés in the rom-coms Ryōma still secretly watched suddenly seemed to make sense: maybe love was meant to happen, sometimes, maybe some people were just lucky enough to find it and be happy.

Ryōma never believed he would ever be one of them, not as long as he loved Momo.

But maybe, just maybe, it was still meant to be. Maybe he _was_ lucky, after all.

In that moment Ryōma threw away every carefulness and fear he had hidden inside himself throughout the years and jumped into Momo’s open arms.

Momo caught him and raised him by the waist (thank god he was still on the small side and not too much raw muscles, otherwise he would break his spine lifting him), just like in a lame movie, and spun him around.

Ryōma’s hands gripped his shoulders and for the first time –maybe- since they knew each other he openly laughed.

Loud and bright and cheerful.

Just like Momo.

He spun him around a few times and then slowly put him back on the ground, his smile bigger than ever before.

He didn’t let go of his waist, though, and somehow Ryōma’s hands slipped around his neck.

«I can’t believe you’re here, I missed you so much» Momo said.

There were many things Ryōma wanted to ask and say: _why are you are, why are you still holding me, I missed you too, I love you_.

Grumpy, quiet Echizen Ryōma would say none of them.

But this Ryōma, the one standing into Momo’s arms, was no longer grumpy and quiet.

So he decided he would say it all, he only had to choose what to say _first_.

And he did. He chose the one thing he had wanted to say for the longest time.

Except he didn’t say it.

He graced Momo with a fond smile, circling his face with his calloused hands, and then simply kissed him.

Momo stood still for a second, and then his muscles relaxed and he kissed back, tightening his hold on Ryōma’s waist and pulling him closer.

They kissed fiercely, as if they had wanted nothing more for most their lives.

Ryōma knew he had.

When they parted, cheeks flushed and lips slightly swollen, faces mere inches apart, Ryōma smiled (and he’d been smiling way too much ever since he got back to Japan) and whispered: «I missed you too, Momo-senpai»

Momo snorted.

«That was one hell of a way to say it» he said, mocking.

«If you don’t want it you could always give it back»

Momo’s eyes widened in surprise, like he wasn’t expecting something like that; he really should have known better.

«You brat, I’m not giving you back your kiss! If you want it come and get it!»

That sounded like a challenge. And, oh, Ryōma never backed down from a challenge.

Ryōma smirked, finally feeling complete.

«Ah. Maybe I will» he said, in his voice a tone of challenge, of pride, a sureness he hadn’t felt since the day Momo gave him that weird alien plush (he still had it, he considered it a lucky charm and brought it with him wherever he went. He just avoided showing it).

And so they kissed again, in the middle of Narita Airport, because they finally could; in the arms of each other they had found that home, that missing piece they always longed for.

Maybe that was why Momo didn’t love his first girlfriend: she wasn’t Ryōma.

And it sure was the reason Ryōma’s relationships wouldn’t last: they weren’t Momo.

And yet it had taken them years to realize they already belonged to each other.

And in the end the one thing it took them to open their eyes was a leap of faith, holding each other and kissing without being sure the other felt the same.

Sometimes you have to take a leap of faith and trust that when you’ll fall someone will be there to catch you.

It’s usually worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Dear Lord here it is.  
> Honestly, I am quite satisfied with this work, it turned out _exactly_ how I wanted, for once.  
>  I strongly believe that the fandom needs both more MomoRyo and more pining!Ryoma; but that's just my opinion and no one's supposed to agree, lol.  
> The title is from the song _Far Away_ by Nickelback and, honestly, it has _nothing_ to do with the contents of this work. It just sounded nice.  
>  Thank you for reading, leave some feedback if you wish~!


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